...
Volistad
Having my neck broken was a uniquely hellish experience. I couldn’t move, I could barely breathe and I could hardly speak. Things just happened around me. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. I was Joanna’s champion, not the other way around. Sure, she had the powers of a demigod and could absolutely handle herself, but she had trusted the duel to me. And now here I was, lying in the Deepseeker’s workbench in the middle of his scrupulously neat hut. Furs and hides had been laid down over the stone work-table, but that didn’t change the fact that I felt like one of the old shaman’s magick projects. Joanna had been explaining some of her own magick, the metal and spirits with which she had come down from the sky. She didn’t call it magick, she called it teck. I wasn’t sure what teck meant, but it didn’t mean anything mystical or spiritual. When she said teck, she meant things like the grain mill. Machines. The Deepseeker made machines, not magic. Was I one of those machines? After all, I had magick, no, a teck heart in my chest instead of one made of flesh. Had the Deepseeker really saved my life? Was I still Erinye, or was I something… else? After all, I had just had my neck snapped, and I hadn't died. There was only one other thing I knew about like that- the very Child of the Eater King that had killed me. Was that all that beat in my chest a wriggling, metallic insect that wore my meat body like I wore armor?
I heard the leather door flap pushed aside and resisted the urge to try to turn my head. I had learned very quickly that it either knocked me unconscious with pain or did nothing after all. I supposed I was fortunate that the old shaman knew how to block the pain that I knew that had to be there. Honestly, I was surprised I could even think. Everyone I had ever met who had been using the Deepseeker’s pain blocking herbs and treatments had seemed half-asleep. At this moment, I couldn’t have been more awake. A moment later, the craggy, mad face of the Deepseeker appeared over mine. “You seem to be doing better,” he mused.
I laughed, carefully lest I provoke the terrible pain I knew that had to be waiting in the dark. "I broke my neck, and I'm paralyzed. Please, define ‘better,' Oh great Elder."
To my surprise, the Deepseeker didn’t fly into one of his characteristic rages, despite the disrespect I had shown him. Instead, he narrowed his twitching eyes into a smile and disappeared from my sight. I felt something pulse down my neck, through my chest, and along my legs. It took me a second to realize I hadn’t been able to feel any of that a moment ago. I tried to wiggle my toes. I felt them wiggle. Cautiously, I turned my head the tiniest of fractions to the left. No pain. Some tightness in the muscles, a little stiffness, but otherwise no pain.
The Deepseeker reappeared, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Get up.”
“What? How-”
The Deepseeker cut me off with an impatient chopping motion. “I said get up. We have a lot to go over and not a lot of time.”
Gritting my teeth in anticipation of agony, I sat up. Nothing. No problem. I looked down at myself, halfway expecting a metal body like that of the creature I had fought in the dark while searching for Joanna. But no, it was still my body. I was beaten, I had some fading bruises, but I was fine. I reached up and felt at my neck. It felt normal- if a little tender to the touch. "Deepseeker, how did- how did you do this?"
The shaman looked at me from beneath bushy white brows, leveling a surprisingly lucid skeptical stare at me. “I replaced your heart, boy- after it got stabbed with a magick spear. Why does it surprise you that I’m capable of repairing a neck as well?”
I frowned. “That’s not the same. When you replaced my heart, I was laid up for a long time. And now-” I stopped, realizing that I didn’t know how much time had passed. “How long have I been down?”
“One night.” The Deepseeker muttered, reaching over and disconnecting a thicket of cords, cables, and wires that had apparently all been connected to me at one time or another. They dripped with a black fluid I couldn’t identify.
I stood, finding it easier than I thought. No wobble, no weakness. It was like nothing had happened. “This doesn’t make sense,” I whispered, feeling overwhelmed. “This isn’t possible.”
The Deepseeker laughed. “Of course it is.” He thumped me hard in the chest, right over the scar where a black spear had skewered me from behind. “I put some serious stuff in there where your heart used to be. The machine spirits inside it can fix damn near everything, given the right materials to work with. Do you think I would risk everything I invested in you on some fancy weapons and armor?”
I just stood there and stared at him, open-mouthed. After a few moments of silence, all of the words bouncing around in my head came vomiting out of my mouth. “What have you done, you crazy old cur? What have you turned me into? Tell me, am I a machine? Tell me!” I stepped forward, not sure what I was going to do, but sure that whatever it was required me to seize the ancient bastard by his skinny, leathery neck.
The shaman didn't let me grab him, however. He held up a small, boxy device that flashed with blue lights and flipped a switch. Immediately, my arms and legs went limp, and I crashed hard to the floor. The Deepseeker leaned in close, with a tone more exasperated than angry. "Don't do that." He flipped the switch again, and I could stand. He held out a hand for me to take it, and then pulled me to my feet. "I've done exactly what I said I had done the last time I dragged you away from death. I turned you into a peerless ranger. You don't feel cold. You are fast and disproportionately strong. And unless someone actually cuts off your head or tears the heart out of your chest, you'll be enjoying those benefits of immortality for quite some time."
“In short,” the Deepseeker continued. “I have made you into my heir.”
“What is that supposed to mean? What are you?”
The Deepseeker laughed out loud, “You idiot, haven’t you guessed? You’ve already met one of your gods, and she all but told you the answer.”
I remembered it then, standing before the altar, face to face with Ravanur. Unless I missed my guess, the Great Mother had said, Palamun has already left his mark on you. My blood felt cold in my veins as the realization struck me. “Palamun. You’re the Great Father, the King of the Sky.”
“Actually,” said Palamun, his face briefly riven by a series of twitches all along his jaw line, “I’m the eighth Palamun, in a manner of speaking, and it would be best if you didn’t tell anyone about this- except maybe the Akkandaka. She will understand. Now come outside. We have a war to plan.”
…
I stepped out of the hut a moment later, still only clothed from the waist down. Between my magick heart and the protections that the Stormcallers maintained over the village, the air was a comfortable sort of chilly. There was just enough bite to the air to make me feel more awake, more alert. Gathered around the fire pit that lay before the Deepseeker’s hut were Elder Perwik, Joanna, Nissikul, and Thukkar. They all looked up as I emerged, and their expressions betrayed varying levels of disbelief and shock.
“Vol?” Joanna asked, half rising from her place by the fire.
“I’m alright,” I assured her, with more confidence than I felt about that fact. I was still skeptical of the Deepseeker’s definition of alright, and adding to that the fact that the old shaman was actually Palamun… I was fairly certain I was somewhere very far from alright.
Thukkar, with the characteristically dry humor of a longtime ranger, remarked, “You look good, all things considered.”
Nissi snorted, sliding seamlessly into the joke as if she had never been worried for me. “Don’t let it go to your head though, big brother. You still look like half-baked vulyak dwert.” She leaned over towards Elder Perwik and said, in a stage whisper, “We might need to temporarily ban mirrors for the sake of public order.”
I shook my head, making my way over to sit between Joanna and Nissikul. “Your concern is overwhelming,” I replied. I turned to Joanna. “How bad is it?”
She winced. “Well, your whole neck is a bruise, as is part of your chest and one s
ide of your face.”
“That will fade,” said the Deepseeker, emerging from his hut bearing a small black metal box the size of my head in both of his wiry arms. “You should look good as new in a week.” His usual twitching seemed to have temporarily subsided, and the mad light in his eyes was a little dimmer than usual. “And that’s unimportant anyway.”
“I don’t know about that,” Nissikul said, teasingly, taking in how close I was sitting to Joanna. It had always been her way to release her tension with humor, and Nissi’s sense of humor had always been rather sharp. “The state of my dear brother’s face seems like it might be very important to our Storm Queen here.”
Elder Perwik choked on the bite of roast mushroom cap he was chewing, covering it badly with a cough. Whether he was trying not to laugh or shocked at the prospect of the brand new god in his village sleeping with a mortal, I couldn’t tell. I ignored Nissikul and tried not to think about that mad morning in Ravanur’s temple. Joanna’s soft, hungry lips. A curious tongue tasting mine… The Deepseeker coughed loudly, a flicker of his usual volatility rippling across his face in a short burst of furious, frenzied twitching. “If you are all quite done, we’re trying to save this people, and all of the rest out there in the Firmament.”
We sobered quickly, remembering the enormity of the task before us. Perwik grunted and leaned forward, his fingers steeple beneath his chin. “I suppose there is the matter of the Elders,” he began, his face a mask of controlled rage. “Vassa is certainly corrupted- that he dared bring Eater-Spawn here…” He trailed off, apparently to overcome with rage to speak.
Thukkar reached out with his long knife and skewered a cube of roast dukkar meat. He held it up in the firelight and examined it critically as he said, “The Eater-Spawn must have been changing hosts frequently. Whatever body they choose to puppet typically begins to rot within a fortnight. This is why they’re always piling on more stolen flesh- to bolster their collapsing body.”
“Either that,” replied the Deepseeker, “or the Eater-Spawn have learned how to use a host more efficiently. After all, the process of taking new hosts is when they’re at their most vulnerable. The less often they have to find a new body, the less of a chance they would be caught.”
“Regardless,” cut in Elder Perwik, “Vassa is a servant of the Dark Ones, and has been for some time. My rangers have already turned over his hut and found plans in amongst his scrolls, references to a tower like the one you were building.” He nodded toward Joanna as he said this. “So what are we going to do with him? Likely he knows more of what the Dark Ones are planning, and with some… persuasion, he might be convinced to tell us about it.”
Joanna tilted her head back and forth, weighing the options. “Perhaps.” She nodded over at Perwik. “Are your rangers willing to follow me?”
The Master Ranger’s expression darkened. “Right now, everyone- and that absolutely includes me- everyone is confused as to what just happened, and what is going on. Until I have a satisfactory explanation as to what you’re doing here and what you want, I will commit none of my rangers to hunt down a threat we’re not even sure it exists.” He met Nissikul’s eyes and she bared her teeth, not even the least bit intimidated by her. “When I see proof, when I see facts- then I will send my people to fight alongside you.” He waited for a moment, just long enough to make it clear that he was completely serious, and would not take attempts at intimidation well. Then he added, in the same bland, unthreatening tone as before, “Akkandaka.”
“What about Lot?” asked Nissikul, mastering her indignation at Perwik’s tone. “Do we know if he was corrupted by Vassa? After all, he did dispatch Volistad here to make contact with Joanna, and then betrayed him when he returned to report his progress.”
The Deepseeker shook his head. “I doubt he is infected. He did what he was supposed to do when he attacked you, Storm Queen. With respect, if he had succeeded in killing you and your spirit, he would have effectively preserved the secrecy and security of the prison.
“Prison?” Perwik asked, confused.
"I refer to the Dark Ones frozen to Ravanur's breast in death," the Deepseeker said, correcting himself. "In any case, Elder Lot's failure to carry out his mandate as protector of this tribe from otherworldly threats is reason enough to strip him of his title. After the mess that the little one-armed storm-daughter over here made of the attack, his support among the people is not very solid. He will never command complete respect ever again, and with a Dark One created abomination serving as his champion in a trial by combat, there is a good chance that one of his own Stormcallers will kill him. We will need a new Master Stormcaller."
Perwik shrugged with the effortless indifference of an old ranger. “We already have one.” He tilted his head towards Nissikul. “Far better than the last, Elder.”
Nissikul opened her mouth to say something, then immediately closed it, flabbergasted. She made a few short squeaking sounds, and then finally seemed to regain control of her voice. “But- but I’m the youngest of the Stormcallers. I’m certainly not the most powerful. How can I lead all… all of them?”
Perwik laughed, unconcerned. “You will find a way, Elder. The position is not always given to the old. Seeing how thoroughly we were led astray, I think that some fresh eyes would be good for the tribe. Besides, I dare say your youthful foolishness was taken with your arm, was it not?”
Nissikul looked down at the stump of her arm and sighed. “I do have to be… more careful. But that still leaves Lot. We can’t just exile him, he’s a Stormcaller and could cause major problems for the tribe if we send him out into the cold. The cold certainly won’t kill him. But we can’t just execute him. The older Stormcallers are already going to resent me being their master. If I also execute the man they followed, I might have a schism on my hands.”
Perwik grimaced. “I’ll talk to him. He’s a creepy, conniving old spawn of a burug, but perhaps I can make him see reason. He’s smart enough to know what kind of position he’s in. He should already know that his time as a leader of this tribe is over.”
“What about the priests,” I asked, ignoring the somewhat startled looks of the others. They were all acting like they thought my head might fall off at any moment. “They’re the most disgraced by this mess. Right now they’re trying to save face by waiting on the Akkandaka-”
“-which I appreciate,” cut in Joanna from around a mouthful of roast dukkar and mushrooms.
I suppressed a laugh and continued. “But given enough time, they could become a problem again.”
Joanna shook her head and held up a finger while she swallowed her food. "...Sorry. No, we don't have to worry about them. As soon as we're done here, I'll put the fear of… well, the fear of me into them. A reminder to do what Great Mother Ravanur says should be good for them. Besides, we know where her temple is. We can use that as the carrot, and the fear of my wrath as the stick.”
Everyone blinked around at her. I coughed awkwardly, and asked, my tone apologetic, “Uh, Joanna, what’s a carrot?” This took some time to explain. It turned out that a carrot was a kind of food from Joanna’s home. We still didn’t understand the phrase, and Joanna ended up explaining several radically different concepts from her language before finally letting out an exasperated sigh and giving up.
The Deepseeker, a ghost of amusement flickering across his ancient face, clapped his knobbly hands together with a loud crack. “Excellent. Nissikul is the new Elder of the Stormcallers, the Storm Queen here will handle the priests, and Elder Perwik remains the Master of the Rangers. As for my own seat on the council, I believe young Volistad here will make for a fine replacement.”
“Elder, I understand why Nissikul could be the Elder of the Stormcallers, but what good would I do replacing you on the Council? You’re here, and uncorrupted, and besides, you’re the only Deepseeker. I don’t know anything about what you do for the tribe beyond make blessings, and I couldn’t even do that. Why me?”
“We’ll discuss i
t later,” grumbled the old shaman, some of the madness coming back into his face. “It’s complicated, and involves secrets of the trade.” He held up the black metal cube that had been sitting in his lap. “With all that out of the way, we have more important things to discuss.”
Joanna nodded. “Right. You implied that it was possible to kill all of the Dark Ones.”
"It is," the Deepseeker confirmed, stretching his mouth into one of Joanna's smiles, showing off his yellowed, chipped fangs. "But I need a very special ingredient to make the magick I need to do it. It's very rare and may be hard to find. In fact, there is only one of its kind in all the world."
“And that ingredient is?” Joanna’s expression was skeptical. Ravanur had said, flat out, that killing the Dark Ones permanently was impossible. How could a single blessing, whether it was magick or teck, do anything to harm the old imprisoned gods beneath the ice? I wouldn’t have believed him either, except that I believed him when he told me that he was Palamun. The eighth Palamun, whatever that meant.
Alien Romance Box Set: Alien Former: Sci-Fi Alien Romance (Books 1-5) Page 34